


Drinking Problems

by AuthorReinvented



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Belarus and many more!, Brothers, Cuba, Drama, Drinking problems, FACE Family, Family, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wrote America and Canada as twins, Twins, also there's no ship, did, i mean unless you want to, is Mathew Alfred's split personality? He doesn't thinks so!, mentions of more fun characters like Ukraine, much angst, seriously this is very drama, split personality, this wouldn't have happened if Arthur hadnt made him drink.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:21:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 12,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28517817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorReinvented/pseuds/AuthorReinvented
Summary: Drinking with his older brother Arthur never ends well for Mathew.It's not the first time he's woken up with a hangover in a different country, surprisingly, but the apartment he wakes up in, the new haircut, and the two people who claim they are his friends are definitely  not something that's happened before.Mathew only wants to get back home, but for some reason his new friends insist on calling him "Alfred" and won't believe him so easily.
Relationships: America & Canada (Hetalia), Canada & England (Hetalia)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a reminder of human names:
> 
> America=Alfred
> 
> England=Arthur
> 
> Canada= Mathew
> 
> Prussia = Gilbert
> 
> Japan = Kiku
> 
> France= Francis

Drinking with his older brother Arthur never ended well.

Some of Mathew's clearer memories included events like trying to stop Arthur from jumping off a roof while his older brother insisted he could fly, stopping Arthur from proactively stripping for the very interested Spainaird at the bar, and being led around by his neck tie while Arthur introduce him to every person, duck and lampost as his younger brother Mathew, then proceeded to brag very loudly about him. To be fair, Mathew didn't really mind the last one. But still, those were only the times Mathew was sober enough to remember.

Some of the less memorable escapades included Mathew waking up with a killer hangover and partially naked in a variety of strange places: a park bench, Arthur's wardrobe, and once in front of a Dutch flower shop, which was made stranger still by the fact that Mathew had been in England with his brother when they started drinking, and had no recollection of how he got there. Thankfully, the florist had ended up being a very nice and understanding guy, and had actually lent Mathew his phone to contact Arthur and let Mathew crash at his apartment for a few days until he could catch a flight back home.

Basically, this wasn't the first time Mathew had woken up in an unfamiliar country, alone, and with no memory of how he got there, although it was his first time waking up in someone else's apartment on someone else's bed, with a new haircut. He could tell it was a different country by the loud sounds from the street which woke him up, once his head stopped pounding long enough for him to note the differences. Not only was it much louder than he was used too, the difference in accents of the pedestrians running up and down the sidewalk outside his apartment was quite different than the one he was used to, and one that immediately told Mathew where he was.

Mathew was less concerned about how he got to America, and more concerned about who's house he'd drunkenly broken into. He only grew more concerned when he found himself wearing clothes that he was certain wasn't his. A quick exploration of the apartment showed no sign of the owner, and a quick trip to the bathroom (with a whispered apology to the absent owner as he helped himself to the facilities) revealed the new hair cut. After the initial shock of finding his hair much shorter and in a different style than usual - seriously? How did he even find a barber open at the asscrack of dawn willing to cut a drunk guys hair? - the first emotion Mathew felt was relief.

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be." Mathew mumbled to himself, trying his best to pat down the unruly hair as it didn't seem like the owner of the apartment was in possession of a brush or even a comb. It was well enough done that Mathew knew he hadn't cut his hair himself, which was a relief. The thought of a blitzed version of himself holding sharp sicssors anywhere near his head was a terryfying thought, and Mathew made a mental note to hide all sicssors before he went drinking next time, or at least to drink with someone he trusted who would stop him before he did something stupid. Sadly, Arthur was more the type to encourage heavy drinking and drunken antics rather than stop them.

Mathew's day got worse after his shower, when he was forced to put the strange clothes back on as he couldn't seem to locate his own anywhere, although there was clothes thrown everywhere in the obvious bachelor pad. A quick scour of the apartment revealed that Mathew was also completely missing any personal effects like his wallet and phone. He did however, find what he supposed was the apartment owner's phone, though frustratingly, it was locked. At this point, Mathew began to feel less concerned about himself and more about the owner of the apartment, who besides seeming to live in a pig stye, also was apparently missing with no indication of where he was and without his cellphone, not to mention there's a strange man alone inside the apartment.

Mathew had just made up his mind to find the nearest police station and let them take it from there when the doorbell of the apartment rang. Loudly. Several times.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder of human names:
> 
> America=Alfred
> 
> England=Arthur
> 
> Canada= Mathew
> 
> Prussia = Gilbert
> 
> Japan = Kiku
> 
> France= Francis

As the doorbell continued to ring repeatedly, Mathew's brows drew together, before realizing who it must be. Naturally, it was the apartment owner returning home. Since he'd somehow forgotten his cellphone, it made sense that he'd also forgotten his keys. Mathew quickly unlocked the door and opened it, an apology for last night already on his lips, but never got the chance to let it spill. The words froze on his lips as he registered first the white hair, then the red eyes of the visitor in his doorstep, carrying a large plastic bag full of what looked suspiciously like beer.

If Mathew wasn't so shocked by the stranger's red eyes, he might have wonder just what sort of person brings Alcohol first thing in the morning. As it was, he was trying very hard not to rudely stare at the man whom he had since concluded was either Albino or a very hardcore cosplayer. The man didn't seem to take offense at his staring at all, only laughing in a snickering sort of way before retorting in a sharp German accent.

"What's wrong dude? You still drunk?"

Mathew didn't have time to protest that he was already sober, though he had a killer hangover, or more importantly apologize for whatever he did last night before the apartment owner shoved him aside with his foot as though Mathew was nothing more than a large dog, and let himself in. The homeowner's casual entrance as though it was only natural to have a stranger in his house left Mathew feeling a little lost. The feeling only grew when the homeowner tossed his shoes carelessly in the corner, plopped the bag - which Mathew was now certain was full of beer cans- on the counter, then threw himself on the couch and reached for the tv remote with no further conversation other than a comment about how couldn't he stand the mess, which Mathew found unfair considering it wasn't even his house.

When it became obvious that the homeowner had no intention to help Mathew figure out what was going on, Mathew hesitantly took it upon himself to ask. 

"So.." 

"Kiku will be here soon. He said he had to stop and get something."

The homeowner cut him off, already selecting his character in Mario Mart. That only confused Mathew more. Who the heck was "Kiku"? A brother? A roommate? A friend? An American florist that Mathew had passed out in front of the Shop of? The homeowner didn't explain. Mathew realized he didn't know the name of the homeowner either. He gave the albino a sideways look, but the other man didn't even acknowledge him. Finally, Mathew made himself speak.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you last night, and I'm really ashamed to ask this after all you've done for me, but I can't seem to remember your name?"

Mathew flushed deeply at this admittance, and the albino dropped his controller and stared at Mathew in shock.

"Dude, what the hell? What exactly did you drink last night?"

Mathew wished he had an answer to that. He'd started off the night with a cold beer as usual, but he tended to get more creative with his drinks the more he drank, and the last thing he remembered drinking was a murky brown liquid Arthur had pushed into his hands with no explanation. Sober Mathew would have questioned it and probably not have drank it. Drunk Mathew downed it in one gulp. The other man shook his head in awe at Matthew's sheepish silence.

"Please tell me you're kidding."

Mathew gave him his best apolegetic and pleading look, hoping he didn't do something stupid, like promise to work at this guy's Café for 6 months or help him write a love letter (both of which had happened before in the past, but that's another story). The albino stared harder, piercingly fierce with his red eyes, and Mathew smiled awkwardly back. Finally, the supposed homeowner gave in, still shaking his head.

"Fine. Il play along. I'm your buddy Gilbert, we're like the best of friends," 

Just as Gilbert spoke, there was another chime of the doorbell, and Gilbert flicked a thumb over his shoulder as he yelled "Come in!" before continuing speaking to Mathew. 

"-And that's Kiku, your close-but-not-as-close-as-me, friend."

A small Asian man who Mathew had never seen before in his life hesitantly let himself through the door, looking somewhat stiff, as though he'd sense the unusual atmosphere and didn't quite know what was going on, which would certainly fit the situation.

"Um, Ohayo, Alfred?"

The Asian offered uncertainly, and Gilbert turned to him incredulously. 

"Hey, Kiku, get a load of this! Alfred says he drank so much he can't even remember us!" 

Mathew realized belatedly that this might be a bigger issue than he first assumed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder of human names:
> 
> America=Alfred
> 
> England=Arthur
> 
> Canada= Mathew
> 
> Prussia = Gilbert
> 
> Japan = Kiku
> 
> France= Francis

"Um?" 

Mathew tried to interject, but wasn't given the chance as the newcomer shifted his dark eyes from Mathew to Gilbert, then back to Mathew again.

"It is another joke?" 

Kiku asked cautiously, eyes calculating, and Gilbert responded somewhat gleefully. 

"I don't know, I think he's serious! He's being all polite and everything!"

The visitor's eyebrows drew together, forming lines on his forehead as he replied in concern. 

"Should we take him to the hospital? It could be dangerous?" 

"Excuse me-"

Mathew tried to interject again, but the two continued as though he hadn't spoken.

"No way! It's funny! Besides, I'm sure his memory will come back eventually." 

Here Gilbert smirked at Mathew knowingly. 

"Isn't that right, Alfred?" 

"Alfred, are you really okay?"

Kiku added a question at the same time. Mathew was speechless. He had a thought growing in the back of his head like an Itch he couldn't scratch, and he didn't like the thought he was having. There was a bitter taste growing in his mouth, much worse than whatever the mixture Arthur had given him last night was. Both the dark-eyed Asian and the albino with the sharp German accent were watching him closely, and Mathew took a deep breath to calm himself before he answered, quickly running through his thoughts. First, he'd clear up the misunderstanding, then he'd borrow a cell phone to call Arthur and get himself home. With this thought in mind, Mathew opened his mouth and responded.

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding." Mathew began awkwardly, but firmly. "I'm not Alfred. I'm Mathew."

He paused for the reaction, but there was none. Both of the men exchanged a look with each other, but otherwise their faces remained blank. Mathew hesitated. He'd been expecting shock, or even disbelief, but surprisingly the response he got was almost unaffected, like they were used to this situation. Mathew swiveled his head nervously from Gilbert to Kiku, trying to read their expressions. Gilbert was easier to read, his expression a cross between frustration and annoyance. Kiku's face remained calm and unreadable. Mathew began to feel quite anxious. Finally, Kiku moved first. 

"Nice to see you again, Mathew-San." 

He inclined his head towards Mathew in a greeting. Mathew frowned. He didn't know a lot of people, but he was very good with faces, and he didn't remember ever seeing this man before. He glances sideways at Gilbert for an answer, and Gilbert simply shook his head, vaulting himself over the back of the couch and heading for beer cans on the kitchen counter, with a weary expression. 

"This is gonna take some beer."

Gilbert complained to himself, popping the tab on one of the cans. Mathew waited for an explaination as Gilbert threw himself back on the couch and Kiku took off his jacket and hung it up, but there was none. Finally, Mathew broke the silence himself. 

"I'm sorry, do you know me?" He asked politely, and when Kiku gave him an unreadable look, he quickly tacked on, "I'm sorry, I just don't remember seeing you before." 

The answer came from Gilbert, wiping the foam from the beer from his lips as he spoke without looking at Mathew. 

"That's cause we don't usually see Mathew unless Alfred's drunk." 

That made no sense, so Mathew turned to Kiku for an answer, sensing that Kiku was probably the more sensible of the two. Kiku's face didn't change, but somehow Mathew got the feeling that the other was looking at him pityingly as he spoke. 

" Alfred-, no, Mathew-San, did you forget to take your medicine again?" 

Mathew was nun-plussed. Medicine? What medicine? Suddenly he felt a wariness growing in his chest as he remembered that not all people were good, and that there were those who would take advantage of a drunk. There'd been several times when Mathew had found himself in a bad situation when he was drunk, and had to make use of his raw strength and the appearance of a convenient passerby or police officer to escape. More than once Mathew had woken with bruised knuckles and marks on his body that hadn't been there the night before, and it was obvious someone had tried to take advantage of him. Mathew felt a chill up his spine as he realized this was likely one of those cases. He glanced warily towards the door, gauging the distance there as he responded to Kiku in a carefully controlled tone, trying not to show his nervousness. 

"What medicine?" 

Kiku's eyes flicked to the door and back too, and Mathew tried to look relaxed and unconcerned as the Asian studied his face. For a moment, they were caught in a brief face-off, and Mathew felt a sweat begin to drip down his back as his heartbeat pounded like he'd just ran a marathon. Then, just as quickly, it broke, and Kiku moved from the doorway into the house, opening a cupboard and looking though it with the air of someone who'd done that many times before. Mathew let out a quiet breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He knew he needed to get out of there and and get to the police.

Mathew began to slowly move towards the door.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder of human names:
> 
> America=Alfred
> 
> England=Arthur
> 
> Canada= Mathew
> 
> Prussia = Gilbert
> 
> Japan = Kiku
> 
> France= Francis

Mathew was almost to the door when Kiku closed the cupboard gently, somehow conveying frustration though his expression didn't change. Mathew took a step back and pretended to be watching Gilbert playing Mario Kart as Kiku turned around. Kiku looked towards Mathew and opened his mouth as though he'd like to ask something, and Mathew tensed as he pretended he wasn't watching Kiku from the corner of his eyes. Kiku shut his mouth and looked towards Gilbert instead. Mathew calculated his best escape options. He was glad Gilbert was distracted with the game, he could tell the albino has some muscle to him and he would definitely be difficult to fight off. He was confident, however, that he could fight off the Asian and escape quite easily if the German stayed distracted. Gilbert answered Kiku's unspoken question. 

"Try the bathroom, next to the sink." 

Gilbert didn't take his eyes off the game. Kiku nodded silently and ventured further into the apartment, and Mathew untensed, only a little. Mathew didn't understand what was going on, but he was grateful to Gilbert for making an opportunity for him to escape. He backed up a couple more steps to the door, and reached to unlock the door that Kiku had locked behind him when he came in. He wasn't wearing shoes, but finding some was the least of Matthew's concerns right now. First and foremost, he needed to get to the police. He'd worry about his feet once he was safe. The lock unclicked with a gentle click, and Mathew froze as the sound broke the silence in the room. It was the silence that was the problem. Mathew felt chills down his back again As he realized he could no longer hear the sound of Gilbert's game in the background.

In what seemed like slow motion, Mathew turned his shaking gaze towards the couch, and blue eyes met red. Gilbert was leaning silently over the back of the couch, watching him with a serious air, though he didn't look concerned. That scared Mathew more. For a moment, Mathew stayed frozen, just him and Gilbert staring at each other. Then, just when Mathew couldn't take it anymore, when he'd decided to just run for it, Gilbert spoke. 

"Are you leaving again?" 

Mathew flinched. Gilbert didn't move from the couch, instead lazily draining his beer. A soft noise from the hall alerted Mathew that Kiku had returned, an orange pill bottle in one hand, his brows knitted together again. Mathew knew he had to go then, or he might not escape. Gilbert moved, and Mathew started to pull open the door, but Gilbert only threw the beer can into the sink, before continuing on in a casual tone.

"Take the first right once you're out the front door, then two blocks over take another right, and the police station is just past the 7eleven. Can't miss it."

Mathew hesitated. Why was Gilbert telling him this? Was it a trap? Where would he end up if he followed those directions? Was it really the police station? And why would he tell Mathew that to start with, as though he knew what Mathew was planning? The casual way Gilbert spoke, and the almost boredness in his tone made it seem like Gilbert expected this situation, and Kiku's next words only solidified the idea in Matthew's head as the quiet man slid the pill bottle across the counter so it was closer to Mathew. 

"Mathew-San, please remember to take your pills with you and wear your shoes."

For some reason the two were acting like tired parents, or perhaps Arthur when he nagged at Mathew was a better comparison. Mathew could almost hear his older brother's tired voice. 

" _Mathew, do put down that blind won't you? Don't forget to lock the door when you leave. Oh, and we're almost out of aspirin. Be a good lad and pick some up if you get the chance please."_

Mathew, against his better reasoning, did not leave immediately, even though there were alarm bells going of in his brain. The reason was, even though logically he knew he should leave, he didn't feel like he was in danger with the pair. Mathew had pretty good instincts, he trusted his ability to judge characters, and his instincts were telling him that the two didn't mean him harm. Even so, he couldn't just ignore logic because of his emotions. Mathew spoke carefully. 

"You'll let me go?" 

Gilbert, who was using handsignals to ask Kiku for another can of beer, didn't even look at Mathew as he responded. 

"It's fine, they have your info. We'll pick you up later." 

He ominous words immediately chased away Mathews sense of safety, and he decided to take the chance while he could still do so. He twisted the knob and turned to leave, then stopped, warily looking over the two strangers. The Asian nodded towards the pill bottle, and hesitantly, Mathew darted forward and grabbed it. He'd rather have any suspicious medicines in his possession rather than theirs. Then, before they could change their minds, he swung open the door and darted outside, socked feet padding against the carpeted floor of the apartment. Even as he started to turn from a speed walk to a sprint, Mathew still caught the dry comment of the German inside the apartment. 

"In the end, he still didn't wear shoes. Mathew is such a pain."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ddo you think you have all the names sorted? Good, I'll add a couple more :
> 
> Ukraine: Kat/Katyusha  
> Belarus : Natalya  
> Netherlands : Lars
> 
> These will be useful later.

Mathew knew something was wrong the second he entered the station, surprisingly exactly where Gilbert had described. He knew something was wrong because he was instantly greeted by name. 

"Ah, Hi Mathew! Nice to see you again!"

The officer at the counter greeted Mathew even before Mathew spoke, smiling gently at him from behind his glasses. Mathew felt his skin crawl. He only knew one person in America, and he definitely didn't know any cops. So how did they know him? His face must have betrayed his unease because the man swiveled around in his chair, calling to someone behind the desk.

"Kat! Mr. Jones is here for you!" 

Before Mathew could protests that his name was Williams, not Jones, another officer appeared, shocking large, both in height and in bust size, though Mathew immediately cursed himself for even thinking that. Arthur had always taught him to respect women, after all. In fact, Arthur had strictly taught Mathew to respect everyone, regardless of race, gender or religion. Unless, of course, they were French. For reasons Mathew could only guess at, Arthur hated the French. However, the tall blonde officer spoke in accent that sounded more Russian than French, so Mathew felt guilty for his inproper observation. The officer smiled and waved at him like he was a guest she invited to tea.

"Ah, Mathew! It's been a while since I've seen you! Why don't we head to my office?"

She started to move, and it was so natural that Mathew found himself following her before he even thought about it. By the time he did, she was already confirming the necessary information, and Mathew couldn't think of a way to address the situation. Finally, She finished filling out the information and smiled at Mathew over the paper.

"Thank you for waiting, Mr. Jones. I'm sure you don't remember me, so I'll introduce myself again. I'm officer Bragginsky, and I often assist you with your case. Now, would you mind telling me what happened this time?"

Matthew's mind had stopped racing and at this point he felt a little dazed as he responded. He could hear himself explaining the situation, who he was, how he woke up in a strange apartment after drinking with his brother, how the stranger had called him Alfred and told him to take a suspicious medicine. Here, he provided the medicine to the cop, who checked the label and nodded as though confirming something. Mathew felt confused. It was strange how everyone seemed to know him, from the strangers at Gilbert's apartment, to the cops at the police station. Moreover, the officer helping him acted as though she'd not only seen him before, but often. She'd said she often assisted him with his "case". Mathew felt the uncomfortable scratching in his chest again as he timidly asked a question.

"Excuse me, you said I have a case?" 

The officer gave him a look he couldn't understand. It was somewhere between compassion and pity, though Mathew thought he could read something else there too. However, the expression only lasted a second, and a moment later her cheerful smile popped back into place as she offered him some papers, speaking in a gentle tone as she urged him to read through them. Mathew could hear her gentle explanations as he read, but he quickly stopped registering the words, and he felt like his heart was shaking as hard as his hands as he read the paper. He read it once, then twice, then jerked his gaze up to the officers face desperately.

Offcer Braginsky's gentle look and compassionate eyes did not change, and Mathew identified the other emotion in her expression. A bitter taste grew in Matthew's throat as he re read the information a third time, devouring any piece of info with a desperation of a starving man eating his first meal in days. It couldn't be true, there was no way it could be, Mathew knew this. He knew where he was born. Where he was raised, he had friends and Family in England and Canada and even a certain Dutch florist in Holland, he had an older brother named Arthur, and a job and co-workers who knew him. He could name thousands of experiences and memories he'd had in several different countries with several different people. That's why he denied the information hoarsely, despite the proof provided.

"This is wrong," Mathew tried to plead with Officer Braginsky, "I don't have a split personality! I...I live in England, with my brother! Sometimes I travel for work!"

Officer Braginsky's patient expression did not change as she answered softly. 

"I know it's confusing Mathew, and it feels like you're a different person. It's okay. We're here to help you. I'm here to help you."

Mathew shook his head, feeling dizy and nauseated. 

"No, no! You don't understand! There's been a mistake! This- I'm not Alfred Jones! Alfred is-"

His words were cut off by Officer Braginsky. 

"-Your older twin brother, right?" 

Her voice was still patient and dentle, but there was a sorrow in her smile as she spoke. Matthew's gaze shook as he stated at her, dumbfounded. There was no way she could have known this, only Arthur knew this, and he didn't even know that Mathew knew, so there was no way this American Cop could know about Alfred. So then... 

"How did you-?"

Mathew searched for answers in Officer Braginsky's face, and recieve the answer in the patient tone he was learning to fear.

"Because that's what you say every time, Mr. Jones."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder of human names:
> 
> America=Alfred
> 
> England=Arthur
> 
> Canada= Mathew
> 
> Prussia = Gilbert
> 
> Japan = Kiku
> 
> France= Francis
> 
> Ukraine =Kat/Katyusha
> 
> Belarus =Natalya 
> 
> Netherlands = Lars
> 
> These will be useful later.

Mathew sat in a daze as the conversation flowed around him. He could hear Gilbert's rough tone speaking with the polite officer as Kiku silently sat by his side, but the conversation didn't make sense to Mathew.

"-If possible, we'd like to speak to his guardian-" 

"Ah, that might be hard. He went back to France, not sure how long he'll be. He'll probably answer the phone, but as far as a statement-" 

" I understand. Then, as his emergency contact will you be taking him back home again? "

The conversation seemed to make sense to everyone but Mathew. Why would his guardian be in France? Arthur was his legal guardian since Arthur was old enough to legally take custody of Mathew, and Arthur hated everything French with a passion, especially France. He still made faces whenever Mathew spoke his second language, though he never complained that Mathew spoke French. Still, Mathew couldn't imagine Arthur ever going to France. Moreover, Mathew was certain he didn't know the two people who claimed to be his friends, and was even more certain that Arthur was his emergency contact, not the strange albino German. Then again, nothing Mathew was certain of seemed to make sense anymore.

There was a rattling noise, and Mathew jerked his head up to see Kiku offering him the pill bottle. Mathew looked up somewhat despairingly into the unreadable black eyes, then fell back down to the bottle. There was a sinking feeling in his chest that was quickly turning into hysteria. He had just been told that everything he thought he knew was a lie, and that his memories were wrong, and now they wanted him to take some medicine that would do who-knows-what to him. It made Mathew feel a little afraid. They said his real name was "Alfred Franklin Jones" and that "Mathew Williams" was only another personality that lived inside Alfred's body. and they also said normally "Mathew" only came out when "Alfred" drank.

That's why Mathew didn't want to take the pills. If what they said was true, what would these pills do to him? If they were wrong, and Mathew was right, then taking this strange medication could hurt him, either physically or mentally, or both. On the other hand, if they were right, if "Mathew" is only a split personality, and not himself, then what would happen to him if he took the pills? What happens to "Mathew" when "Alfred" comes back? Mathew didn't want to find out. Sweat dripped down Matthew's back. Kiku seemed to read the anxiety on his face, and spoke quietly.

"It's only medication for the anxiety."

He spoke quietly, and his voice reminded Mathew of a still lake, calm and without inflections. He didn't sound like he was lying, and Mathew remembered the paper he had read earlier. It had noted both medication for anxiety and depression on there, and though Mathew wanted to argue that he didn't have anxiety or depression, he also had thought he didn't have Disassociative Identity Disorder either, right up until this morning. Mathew didn't know what to believe anymore. He took the paper cup of water and the pill that was offered to him and quickly swallowed them down. Mathew was tired of thinking. If he was going to regret this, he'd regret this later. A shadow passed in front of him, and he looked up to see Gilbert standing next to Kiku. 

"Alright there, Mattie, we've got you all sorted out. Let's get you home!" 

Gilbert stuck out his hand with a carefully maintained cheerfulness that Mathew could easily see through, but couldn't be bothered to point out. He peered anxiously at Gilbert face, then Kiku's, then Officer Braginsky's face, and saw the same expectant expression on all three. Mathew stuck out his hand and accepted Gilbert's hand tiredly.

"Please take me home."

A part of Mathew was still hoping that he'd be booked a flight back to England, back to the old brick house where he and Arthur lived, with the lush green garden Arthur carefully maintained. Mathew felt like that part of him died when Gilbert and Kiku walked him back to the apartment where he'd woken up. Kiku unlocked the apartment with a spare key while Gilbert complained that Alfred wouldn't give him one, but Mathew barely could acknowledge it. He sat obediently on the couch like a child when Gilbert commanded it, and watched with a disconnected fascination as Gilbert stripped off his socks and inspected his feet for injuries. He should be embarrassed, he knew, but Mathew couldn't seem to comprehend the emotion. Instead he stared blankly as Gilbert shook his head with a relieved look, and Mathew drew his now-cold feet up under him on the couch as Gilbert started rummaging through the fridge saying something about lunch. 

It wasn't until after Mathew found himself holding a plate with a ham and cheese sandwich while Kiku gently asked him to eat, that Mathew finally accepted the situation. Then, for the first time since they left the police station, he spoke, his voice sounding tired and strained. 

"So this is my apartment?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a reminder of human names:
> 
> America=Alfred
> 
> England=Arthur
> 
> Canada= Mathew
> 
> Prussia = Gilbert
> 
> Japan = Kiku
> 
> France= Francis
> 
> Ukraine =Kat/Katyusha
> 
> Belarus =Natalya 
> 
> Netherlands = Lars
> 
> These will be useful later.

Mathew looked around the apartment with despair. As hard as it was to accept that he had a split personality, it was harder to accept that this apartment that he'd compared to a pig-stye before belonged to him. Mathew was never the overly tidy type, not like Arthur, but he refused to believe that any personality he may or may not have would live like this. His fingers twitched with the urge to tidy up, at least enough so he could see the floor, but the heaviness in Matthew's chest got heavier as he tried to find a place to start. The mess was overwhelming. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to calm himself, closing his eyes to shut out to chaos, but that only served to make him more aware of the cluttered room. 

He snapped his eyes open at the sound of a rustling, and found Kiku looking at him. He tried to offer a smile, but he could tell by the awkward feeling of his face that it wasn't right, and quickly gave up. Kiku spoke in the same even tone he always seemed to use. 

"Mathew-San, are you okay?" 

Mathew breathed deeply and nodded, not feeling okay at all. Kiku continued to watch him, and Mathew felt as though he was being reproached even though the other wasn't saying anything, and quickly gestured somewhat hopelessly to the room. 

"It's just.." his voice trembled as he spoke, and Mathew tried to steady it as he continued, "I guess my brot- Alfred is kinda messy huh?" 

The nausea was back, growing in his stomach, and Mathew suddenly felt like he might puke. It was hard for him to say those words. Alfred was his brother, his twin, he'd always known that, even though Arthur thought he'd forgotten. But suddenly he was told that his twin didn't exist. No, actually, it was Mathew who apparently didn't exist. He swallowed queasily. Kiku was still watching him with that silent gaze. Matthew's hand wandered to his pocket, where the heavy weight of a cellphone now sat. It was unfamiliar to Mathew, all of it, from the apartment, to the phone and wallet he'd been told where his, even to the strangers who claimed to be his closest friends. None of it was his. None of it was "Matthew's". 

Of course, they'd described Disassociative Identity Disorder to him, and he knew that this was within the description, but still, a part of him that fingered the cellphone in his pocket wondered if he called that familiar number, would Arthur pick up? The other part of him was scared that he would call and there would be no answer, no one in the other side of the number. Mathew fought the nausea as Kiku's unreadable eyes studied his face, but the only thing the Japanese man said was a quiet "Indeed." Gilbert's voice called to Kiku from the other room, and the smaller man cast one more unreadable look at Mathew before turning and leaving the bedroom. Something sped up in Matthew's chest as he realized his opportunity. He closed his eyes, and tried to think. 

They said he wasn't real, just another personality, not his own person. They said that he was American, his guardian was French, and that he was mostly independent, barely relying on his guardian. They said that "Alfred" liked to drink almost as much as he liked to go to McDonald's, though Alfred worked out enough to work it off. "Alfred" could speak Spanish, French and English. Mathew thought about what he knew about himself. "Mathew" only knew French and English, though he could understand some Spanish. Mathew preferred Tim Hortons when he was in Canada, or just any cafe with good donuts and coffee when he was in England. He didn't work out, though he did play hockey and chop wood when needed and that kept him toned. He was born in Canada, though Arthur was British. Mathew didn't rely on Arthur, he was still independent, but they still spent time together all the time. They still went out to pubs and bars and drank together. 

Matthew's smile twisted as he though about his memories with Arthur, and the disasters that came from going drinking with his older brother. Drinking with his older brother never ended well. Mathew made up his mind. His memories were too detailed, too different for him to be "just a personality". He didn't know what was going on, not really, but he was confident that Arthur could solve it. He pulled out the cellphone and typed the password Gilbert had told him into it.

"He thinks we don't know, but the password is his birthday. Alfred isn't really that creative." 

Mathew dialled the number from memory and tried to remember to breathe as the phone rang. It rand only once before there was a clicking sound, and Mathew was flooded with relief. He wasn't wrong. He really did exist. He opened his mouth desperately to talk to Arthur, but an automated female voice cut him off. 

"The number you are dialling is either disconnected or unavailable at this time. Please check the number and dial again. Thank you!" 

And with a click, the line disconnected. Mathew let his hand fall loosely to his side, shaking. A tear slipped out from his eye and slid down his cheek. He had no choice but to accept the truth. 

"Mathew Williams" only existed within "Alfred Jones" 's mind.


	8. Chapter 8

When Mathew woke up from the nap Kiku had convinced him to take, the first thing he heard was Gilbert's loud voice. 

"I'm sure it's nothing, Franny. Mathew never stays long, you know that.

Hmm? 

Well, yeah, duh. 

Okay, okay, I got it. I'll let you know if something happens. 

March's Gut, Francis, gotta go." 

There was a sense of despair when Mathew remembered where he was and why. Even though he knew it wouldn't happen, he'd still hoped he'd wake up back at home with Arthur. Mathew sat up in the messy bed he didn't recognize, in a messy apartment he didn't recognizing, and began to cry. He cried for the memories he had, for the people and places that he lost. He cried out of frustration and confusion, but mostly because if fear. Mathew was very afraid. He was afraid of what would happen to him in the future, how he would cope with this new life. He was afraid of what would happen to him when "Alfred" came back, but he was also scared to stay in Alfred's place. So Mathew cried. 

He tried to muffle his sobs in his hands, shoulders shaking with the force of his sobs, but he apparently wasn't quiet enough, and Gilbert appeared in the dark doorway, flicking on the light. Mathew wiped at his eyes hurriedly, trying fruitlessly to erase the signs of his break down as Gilbert scanned his face anxiously, his red eyes seeming more tired than before. 

"Alfred?" 

Gilbert asked the question hesitantly, and Matthew's heart sunk. He'd known it from the beginning, of course, all the signs had been there, Gilbert hadn't tried to hide it, but Mathew had chosen to ignore them. He was too overwhelmed by everything else to let himself think about it. Gilbert studied Matthew's tearstained face and hunched shoulders, and his own shoulders dropped tiredly. 

"No, it's Mathew, isn't it?" 

Matthew's heart stung. He knew that Gilbert didn't mean to hurt his feelings, that he probably hadn't noticed the disappointment in his tone, but that didn't change the truth. Mathew, the split personality of Alfred, wasn't the favorite. No, it was better to say he was considered an annoyance. Mathew felt the stinging in his heart turn into something tight and suffocating. Regardless of the fact that it wasn't that he was hated or disliked, Mathew was unwanted, and Mathew didn't know if he could deal with the pressure of that. Mathew curled tighter into himself, and Gilbert shifted awkwardly at the door. 

"Matt, are you okay?" 

Mathew didn't answer. After a moment, Gilbert disappeared. Mathew felt like he was suffocating inside. He breathed deeply to calm himself down, counting slowly to give himself something, anything other than his current situation to focus on.

"One." 

I'm not real. "Mathew Williams" doesn't exist. 

"Two." 

Arthur doesn't exist. 

"Three." 

Alfred isn't my brother. I never had a twin. 

"Four. "

I'm unwanted. 

"Five." 

I'm scared. 

Mathew stopped counting as he realized it wasnt helping, and tried to focus only on the deep breathes in, and then out. His head pounded from the force of his earlier sobs. His throat was dry and hoarse, but Mathew didn't want to move. He wanted everything to be over, he wanted to go back home to Arthur, to tell Arthur about his strange nightmare where neither of them existed, and to drink a cup of soothing tea that only his brother could make just right. But Mathew couldn't do that. The knowledge made him feel even more alone in the world, and that brought with it a chill that all the blankets in the world wouldn't be able to chase away. Mathew hugged the blankets tighter.

Mathew didn't notice that Gilbert had come back until Gilbert put the cold glass of water right against his cheek, and Mathew jerked away from it, turning his red and swollen eyes towards Gilbert's face in shock. Gilbert wore an uncomfortable but concerned expression on his face as he pushed the glass towards Mathew. Mathew uncurled his hand from the cover and accepted the glass quietly. He flushed with shame and emotion as his trembling hand shook the glass and some of the water splashed over the edge and saoked into the blanket. Gilbert graciously pretended he didn't notice, and instead popped another pill bottle and handed Mathew another pill that Mathew accepted with the same quiet shame. He didn't ask what the pill was for. Gilbert told him anyways.

"It'll help with the depression."

Mathew nodded mutely and swallowed the pill with the water. Gilbert continued to watch him with a knitted forehead, but all he said was that Kiku had gone home but would be back later. Mathew wondered if Kiku was upset that Mathew had stolen his friend's body, and his heart twisted again as he realized his selfishness. He swallowed past the bitter lump in his throat, nearly choking on his guilt. It was Mathew who appeared and took Alfred's place and body, it was Mathew who stole Alfred away from his friends, and yet it was also Mathew who was acting like he was the villain. The realization made Mathew disgusted with himself, and he offered the apology to Gilbert in a faded tone.

"I'm sorry."


	9. Chapter 9

By the time Kiku let himself back into the apartment later that evening, Mathew had managed to calm down, or at least ignore his panic enough to tidy most of the apartment. Gilbert had proved to be surprisingly good at cleaning, no actually, he'd proven himself to be something of a cleaning maniac. Mathew hadn't really seen the point of polishing the stove, but when he'd tried to mention it to Gilbert, he'd been met with a look of such disgust that he'd immediately swallowed his words with a soft apology instead. In fact, Mathew was rather grateful for the strict cleaning, it helped distract him from his thoughts. He thought perhaps that was why Gilbert was being so strict about it. He'd quickly changed his mind when Gilbert had started scrubbing the tub for no apparent reason. Apparently, Gilbert just liked to clean.  
  
When the door chimed, followed shortly by Kiku letting himself in with his spare key, Kiku had frozen, then nearly excused himself, saying he had the wrong apartment, and it was Gilbert who convinced him otherwise.  
  
"What are you doing? Hurry up and come in."   
  
Kiku had quietly let himself in, scanning the apartment with a scrutinizing air before his dark eyes landed on Mathew. Mathew waited for the realization, then the disappointment to cross Kiku's face, a soft apology already on his lips. Kiku's face remained blank.  
  
"Good evening, Mathew-San, Gilbert."   
  
Mathew felt a sense of relief at that quiet acceptance, something he hadn't realized he was craving until that point. Mathew wondered if it was okay for him to be there, in Alfred's spot, even if only for a while. He offered a hesitant smile as Kiku, and the Japanese man dipped his head in response. Mathew resumed dusting the sideboard with renewed vigor.  
  
Kiku set the table with the practice of one who'd done it a thousand times, much like how Gilbert had prepared dinner, finding Spices and utensils with practices ease in a way that made the two seem more like roommates than just visiting friends. Mathew had offered to help with the cooking but Gilbert had refused the help so sharply (and with a comment about how if he tried to cook anything other than hamburgers it would end up with the kitchen in flames) that Mathew was taken aback.   
  
Despite Arthur's own abysmal cooking skills, Mathew thought he was actually a rather good cook. In fact, it was because Arthur was such a bad cook that Mathew had learned how to cook himself, at quite a young age, so Mathew was quite insulted that Gilbert reacted that way, but regardless, Gilbert remained adamant: Mathew was not to so much as touch anything in the kitchen. In the end, Mathew had decided to accept the situation as a nice break from having to make his own dinner, and let it be. He decided to ignore the fact that Arthur apparently didn't exist, and his memories were all fake. Instead. He focused on the meal of sausage and potatoes that Gilbert had made.   
  
As soon as Mathew took his first bite, his fork clattered to his plate and he turned to Gilbert with wide eyes.   
  
"Please marry me!"  
  
Kiku froze, dark eyes darting from one to the other, and then Gilbert burst out laughing.   
  
"Oh Gott, finally seen how great a catch I am?"   
  
He snickered, but Mathew ignored him in favor of scarfing down more food as quickly as possible. Matthew's sudden proposal seemed to change the entire atmosphere of the dinner, and the rest was continued with jokes and competitive promised between Kiku and Gilbert that each could make a more delicious dish. The meal was so fun, Mathew almost forgot about everything else.  
  
The playful atmosphere was shattered when Gilbert received a text after dinner. Mathew felt the change in air before he heard the news, swiveling his head away from the dishes he was washing while Kiku dried, he fixed his eyes on Gilbert anxiously. The German was giving off a different feeling than before, and it made Mathew uneasy. His uneasiness grew into discomfort at Gilbert's casual announcement.   
  
"It's Francis. He says he's on his way back. He'll be here by tomorrow morning."  
  
Mathew felt as though his stomach had flipped upside down. He knew who Francis was, both too "Mathew" and to "Alfred." To Alfred, Francis was his Guardian, the one who raised him. Mathew knew this not just from what he was told, but from his own memories, and it was these memories that brought the unease and discomfort. Francis was returning to see Alfred. But Alfred wasn't there right then, Just Mathew. Mathew didn't want to be the one that Francis saw, and wanted to see Francis even less.  
  
His hands shook in the soapy water as he spoke, and his voice wavered to match it.  
  
"Maybe we should have a drink tonight."   
  
Kiku dropped the fork he was holding, and both he and Gilbert responded in the same, somewhat frenzied, tone.   
  
"No! "  
  
Mathew didn't protest, but he hadn't given up. They said that Alfred and Mathew switched places When Alfred was drunk. Therefore all Mathew had to do was get Drunk, and hypothetically, Alfred would be back. To be honest, Mathew was scared. He was scared of What would happen to him when Alfred came back, but he was more scared of meeting Francis.  
  
After all, the relationship between Mathew and Francis was completely different than the relationship Alfred had with Francis, at least according to his memories. 


	10. Chapter 10

Mathew took back all the feelings of not wanting to disappear he had stressed about earlier. At this point, he wanted nothing more than to disappear, either to be replaced by Alfred or sink into the ground, either was welcome. Unfortunately, the ground refused to swallow him, and his plans to secretly drink himself into a blackout to hopefully bring out his other side had failed dramatically when Gilbert had offered to stay over.

Apparently, Mathew wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was, and his midnight trip to the fridge was met by a lack of beer and Gilbert leaning casually on the counter, playing on his phone, and giving Mathew a look that was both triumphant and disappointed. The exchange had gone something like this:

"Whatchu doing there, Matt?" 

"Ah! G-Gilbert! I was.. just..was just, um, looking for a snack!"

"Uh-huh. At 1 am?" 

"I was...hungry...?" 

"Mathew, neither of us believe that, so just give up."

".....

I don't know what you mean."

The awkward conversation had ended with Mathew snatching the first thing he could reach and retreating to his bedroom to munch sadly on baby carrots at 1 am. His second plan to escape by leaving before Francis arrived had been thwarted by his exhaustion after the failure of the first plan, and he'd ended up sleeping in. Which brought him to his current unfortunate situation.

There was an unfamiliar, yet still, somewhat nostalgic voice speaking in a thick French accent in the kitchen, and Mathew did not want to leave the bedroom and greet the person he knew was Alfred's guardian. Mathew also really, really, needed to use the bathroom. Finally the call of nature won against his reluctance, and Mathew cracked the door and slipped silently into the hallway. Surprisingly, no one seemed to hear him as he padded his way down the hall and into the bathroom, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.

Once safely in the bathroom, and business taken care of, Mathew chose to avoid the situation a little longer by taking a warm shower. Unfortunately, the shower just provided ample opportunity for Mathew to mule in his thoughts. It wasn't that Mathew didn't want to see Francis. No, rather, Francis was someone he'd often wanted to see as a child. But that Francis didn't exist. "Mathew" didn't exist. The Francis that was there was "Alfred's Francis", A Francis that Mathew didn't know. Mathew didn't know how he should face him. He wasn't sure he could.

Mathew turned off the water and reached for his towel, trying to distract himself from his thoughts. Still, he froze with his hand on the doorknob, unwilling to make that final step. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that his feeling towards Francis was fake and misplaced. Francis hadn't been the one who ruined his family. No, Matthew's family didn't exist to start with. Mathew twisted the knob and slipped hesitantly outside the bathroom, keeping a tight hand on the towel around his waist, expecting to be cornered any moment. To his surprise, his escape back to the bedroom was made safely and uninterrupted.

It only lasted until he was dressed. A sharp rap at the door announced Gilbert's presence only moments before the albino let himself in.

"Hey, Mathew, Francis is here to see you, hurry up!"

 _"But he's not here to see me,"_ Mathew wanted to argue _, "He's here to see Alfred."_ Matthew's organs twisted in an unpleasant way, but Mathew kept his mouth shut, only dipping his head and squaring his shoulders before he obediently followed Gilbert out of the room. Francis was waiting in the kitchen, and in a split second his eyes met Matthew's and everything Mathew had been trying to hold together came crumbling down. 

He hadn't change, not from his long blonde hair, to his overly expressive face, to his excessive skinship, even his personality, it was all the same. Mathew took a step back, but it was too late, and he was pulled into a tight hug, stubble brushing his cheek and a scent of cigarette smoke and perfume tickling his nose and Francis released a torrent of words, switching between French and English. Mathew felt like he'd been punched. 

_"No."_ He thought, wanting to break the embrace, but unable to move. _"Let go of me!"_ The feeling of repulsion was growing in Matthew's chest, and even though he knew it was wrong, he didn't want Francis to touch him. He didn't want Francis near him. Two of Francis' words caught his ear. 

"..Sacré frere." 

_"Dear brother."_

The feeling that had been bubbling, trapped inside Mathew broke free, exploding outwards, and suddenly Mathew could move, his arms snapping up to push Francis away, a cry breaking free from his throat. 

"NON!" 

The cry was so high and sharp it scared himself, and Francis and Gilbert flinched away at the outcry. Mathew didnt know why he switched to French, but it felt right. Francis searched his face with his eyes, soft and sad, and Mathew lashed out in response, letting out resentment he knew was unjustified. This "Francis" wasn't the one who abandoned him. He couldn't abandon someone who didn't exist. He couldn't steal away a twin brother that didn't exist. Even so, Mathew let the desperate words escape. 

"Je ne suis pas ton frère! I'm Not Alfred! I'm not the one you chose!" 

Mathew squeezed his eyes shut, unwilling to see the reaction he'd caused, unwilling to admit the truth.

For the first time since he'd woken up in Alfred's apartment, he was jealous of Alfred, for being able to love Francis in a way Mathew couldn't. 


	11. Chapter 11

Mathew said a lot of things he shouldn't have. He also said way too little of the things he had wanted to say. Francis had listened quietly until he was done. The aching in his chest got stronger, knotting tighter, and Mathew forced himself to meet Francis's face. Francis wasn't crying, but somehow, he looked like he was. Mathew began to notice things he hadn't noticed before. Francis's lower lip quavered just the slightest bit, his eyes were deep and sad, and there were creases in Francis's face that made him look older than Mathew knew he was, and the guilt doubled. Mathew knew this wasn't _his_ Francis, but he'd still treated him like he was.

"I'm sorry."

Mathew apologized in his usual faded tone, tired and regretful, feeling like he hadn't slept in a week. 

"Mathieu."

Francis spoke, and the familiar accent and the softness it brought to his name jolted him like an electrical current. Francis looked like he wanted to move, and Mathew knew that if he did, Mathew would run. It didn't matter what he knew was the truth or not, Matthew's feelings refused to listen. 

The tension was cut by an unexpected third party. 

"Now, now, Amigos, let's all calm down! Come on, eat! Breakfast is the most important meal of the day!" 

All eyes turned to the owner of the unsuitably peppy tone, a man Mathew hadn't realized was there before, and one he didn't know. 

"Who?" 

The timid query was met with a pleasant grin, and an offered hand. 

"Holà! Nice to meet you, Mathew! My name is Antonio! I usually see Alfred, so it's my first time meeting you! How are you?"

The man looked shockingly like a puppy, despite nothing in his tanned skin or green eyes or wavy dark hair being even slightly similar to that of a dog. Of course, Mathew didn't really spend a lot of time considering that, overwhelmed by the sudden influx of information. Alfred apparently knew this stranger, and judging by the arm slung across his guardian's shoulder, Francis did too. Matthew's inner turmoil only grew when the strange visitor circled around behind him and gently coaxed him into a chair before Mathew had even fully registered what happened.

Something about the stranger made Mathew want to go along with him, and Mathew suddenly found himself halfway through his breakfast before he processed what was going on. When he did snap out of it, he dropped his fork, jerking his head up and meeting the eyes of a guardian that wasn't the same one he remembered. Francis hurriedly looked away as though to convince Mathew he hadn't been staring, which only served to convince Mathew he had been.

There were a lot of things that Mathew still wanted to say to Francis, but didn't. He didn't because he thought he'd already said too much, because Francis wasn't the Francis he remembered and didn't deserve those words, and because of the pain in Francis' soft eyes when Mathew caught him looking at him. Once again Mathew realized that his presence only seemed to upset those around him. He'd stolen a friend From Gilbert and Kiku, a brother from Francis, and a life from Alfred. None of it belonged to him, and yet he'd still thrown a tantrum like he deserved too. The memory of his harsh spat words came back to Mathew in a shameful flush of red spreading over his face, and he dropped his head back towards his plate, scraping the remains of his brother breakfast as he tried to swallow past the guilt.

At some point Gilbert had started up a banter with Antonio in a way that told Mathew that Gilbert too, knew this man, and it was only Mathew who didn't, cementing the feeling that was settling in his stomach. The more he tried to ignore it, the strong the feeling got. _I don't belong here._ Gilbert said something to him, and belatedly, Mathew realized his name had been said, though he didn't know what was said, and he opened his mouth to respond, but the words that came out weren't the request to repeat the question he'd been meaning to ask. 

"Désolé." 

The apology slipped from his lips before Mathew even realized what he was saying, yet as soon as he said it, he knew it was right. Francis was the one who lost a brother, and got suddenly yelled at by a stranger in his brother's body. Francis was the victim, not Mathew, and the more Mathew thought about that, the more ashamed of his actions he felt. That's why Mathew continued the apology, awkwardly. 

"I'm sorry, that.. I was confused and I said things that weren't true. It.. It was wrong of me. Désolé." 

Francis flinched at his apology, and Mathew wondered whether his tight tone had made it seem like he was forcing the apology. He shifted his eyes from Francis' face down to his lap, then quickly to the other side of the table where Gilbert and Antonio were sitting. Gilbert was looking pointedly away from Mathew, and Antonio was watching Mathew with sharp eyes that didn't match his earlier demeanor, and Mathew shrank internally. Once again he wished desperately for Arthur's blunt tone and bruske attitude his older brother used to diffuse any awkward situation. 

There was a sniffling sound, and Mathew focused as hard as he could on his plate. He couldn't shake the feeling that he'd made Francis cry, and he hated himself for causing it. The response to his apology didn't come from Francis, however, but Antonio.

"Why are you apologizing, Mathew?" 

The investigative tone from the unexpected source brought Matthew's gaze up to the stranger, and Antonio met his bewildered gaze with a deeply thoughtful expression as he mad his preposition. 

"Would you mind taking a moment to speak with me, alone?" 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for long wait. Things happened, and I couldn't update, but here's one now.
> 
> *Ps: can you tell I know nothing about psychiatric practices?

Antonio retained his cheerful, yet calm attitude as he spoke to Mathew, and Mathew did his best to match the relaxed attitude. Mathew learned a lot of things during his talk with Antonio. He learned that Antonio was an old friend of both Francis and Gilbert, ever since high-school, and that Gilbert was older than he thought, about 6 years older than him. He also learned that Antonio was a phychiatrist who had been helping Alfred with his DID. But none of these things mattered to Mathew after he learned a fact that seemed not unusual to Antonio, but meant everything to him. I'm

"Now Mathew, I've spoken to Alfred about this, but I haven't had the chance to ask you. You don't have to answer everything, just as much as you're comfortable with, but I'd love to hear your side of how you feel concerning your family situation." 

Mathew blinked at this, taken somewhat taken aback. 

"Family situation?"

He repeated, somewhat uncertainly. Mathew wasn't surprised that Antonio was asking about his obvious agression towards Francis, his guardian, earlier. Still, Mathew didn't know where to begin explaining without sounding even crazier than he already felt. Antonio interpreted uncertain tone as a request for more information.

"Yes, your family situation. Could you tell me how you feel about your twin brother, Alfred?" 

Mathew froze, feeling something twisting in his chest in an unpleasant way, and he tried to surpress that emotion as he responded.

"But Alfred isn't my twin. They said he's just a personality, I don't have a twin."

Antonio cocked his head and made a note. 

"But you do have a twin brother. His name is Mathew Williams and he lives with his guardian Arthur Kirkland. You don't remember?"

For a moment, Mathew felt like all his internal organs stopped completely, and then began working again, overtime. Antonio continued to speak, but it felt faded and far away through the blood pounding in his ears. Antonio's faint question barely registered in Matthew's thoughts. 

"Do you resent Francis and Arthur for separating you two when you were younger?" 

But Mathew couldn't seem to answer and the pounding in his heart seemed to get louder by the second. 

_**Thump**. _

_Arthur is real._

_**Thump**. _

_Alfred really is my twin._

_**Thump**. _

_I'm real._

"Mathew?" 

Antonio's concerned voice broke through his thoughts, and Mathew suddenly became aware he was cold sweating, and felt rather shaky. 

"Can-can we take a break?" 

Mathew asked shakily, but his own voice seemed far away as well, and Antonio nodded, still looking concerned. 

"Let's end here for today." 

Mathew barely waited for the words before escaping, grabbing his jacket from the door and leaving Antonio's office, feet pounding the ground as he bolted from Antonio's office, head spinning. 

_Arthur's real._

_Then why can't I call him?_

_What if I'm wrong?_

Mathew tried to shake the thoughts from his head, fumbling with Alfred's phone in his sweaty palms. He dialled Arthur's number again, hoping that the other night was just a fluke, a mistake. Again, he got the same message.

"The number you are dialing is either disconnected or-" 

Click. 

Mathew hung up, wiping his forehead with his sleeve and feeling on the edge of a panic attack, struggling to keep his breath steady. He couldn't call Arthur. Mathew didn't know how else to confirm that he really was real. He needed to contact someone who knew him as "Mathew" but if not Arthur, then who? Mathew wished he'd never gone drinking with Arthur. He'd never really regretted drinking with Arthur before, even when he ended up in embarrassing situations or in a different country outside a florist's shop-

Mathew cut off his own thought as another took its place _. "A different country outside a florist's shop."_ A person who knew him as "Mathew" and not "Alfred". A person who wasn't Arthur. It was so obvious, how had he missed it before? Somehow, Mathew found his fingers shaking harder than before when he opened Alfred's hone and began an email. 

"Hi, Lars. This is Mathew. Sorry I haven't been in touch lately. A lot happened. Would you be able to talk?" 

Mathew pressed "send." And he waited. He barely noticed when Gilbert showed up and berated him for going missing. ("Do you know how scared Francis was when Toni told him that you just ran off?") If fact, Mathew didn't even remember how he got back to Alfred's apartment, nor did he remember any of Gilbert's, then Kiku's scoldings, though he did remember the look on Francis pale and tired face. Everything felt distant, even as he changed and slipped into bed, and he couldn't seem to fall asleep, staring blankly at the phone that refused to alert him to the email he so desperately was waiting for. 

At 12:30, the phone chimed an email alert, and Mathew jerked straight up in his bed, awakened from his half-asleep stage, and desperately reached for the phone. 

"Hallo. 

Its fine. New email? Yah, sure. When?

-Lars" 

Iit was a short and blunt email, and so unmistakably Lars that Mathew felts his eyes sting with tears as he began to type his response. This time, though, they weren't hopeless tears, but instead, the exact opposite. For this first time since two days ago, Mathew was certain that he really did exist, and with this knowledge came hope. 

He was certain that if he could get back home, he could fix everything. Arthur would know what to do. 


	13. Chapter 13

Mathew knew he needed to get back home. He was certain that once he found Arthur, his older brother would be able to fix everything. In order to do that, he needed two things. The first was more information. The second was a passport. Mathew didn't know if Alfred even had a passport, or, if he did, where he'd put it. He hadn't found one while cleaning Alfred's apartment, though there was still plenty of untouched places, but Gilbert and Francis were on high alert after his escape from his therapy session, and though he wouldn't be surprised if they and even Kiku knew where he kept it, he doubted they would tell him easily, and the last thing he wanted was to arouse any suspicion.

Information, at least, was easy to get.

"What kind of relationship does Alfred have with me, I mean, Mathew and Arthur?" 

Mathew leaned forwards eagerly as he questioned Antonio. Antonio, who had been more than pleased to continue their sessions, was watching Mathew back with a sharp look in his eye. He hesitated, then seemed to come to a conclusion.

"First tell me about how you feel towards Arthur." 

The question was easy and the answer came instantly. 

"He's my older brother. Of course I love him very much."

Antonio looked like he'd learned something interesting, but as per their agreement, answered Mathew's question in return.

"Alfred has told me that he has quite a rocky relationship with Arthur, especially after that fight a couple years ago. Alfred has noted, though, that he regrets what he said a couple years ago about not meeting Arthur ever again. How do you feel about Alfred?"

Antonio tacked on another question, but Mathew latched onto his last statement about Alfred, answering distractedly. 

" He's my twin, of course, but I don't really know him. We haven't met since we were seven. Alfred met with Arthur? In person? "

Once again Mathew could feel the rising pounding in his head, but he pushed it down as he tried to focus. Mathew hadn't seen Alfred since Francis took him away when they were seven. How had Arthur seen him? Why hadn't Arthur told Mathew about it? Mathew was certain Arthur would have had a good reason, but still, he would have liked to know. What bothered Mathew more was that Alfred had only met Arthur. Why hadn't he tried to meet with Mathew? 

Mathew had tried several times in the past to reach out to Alfred, but since Arthur refused to help put him in touch and Mathew had no information about Alfred himself, he hadn't been able too. He'd assumed Alfred was in the same situation with Francis, but if Alfred could contact Arthur, there was no way he couldn't contact Mathew. This information caused his heart to twist and sting again, and a thought Mathew had been ignoring since he was seven resurfaced, and Mathew couldn't ignore it anymore. 

What if Alfred just didn't want to see Mathew? Mathew opened his mouth to ask Antonio this question, but the words wouldn't come out. Mathew realized he was afraid to hear the answer. Antonio, seemingly sensing Matthew's agitation, chose to end the session there. As Antonio moved to stand up, Mathew caught a glimpse of a word written. At the top of the page, a simple, harmless word. Except it wasn't. 

"Alfred." 

And Mathew understood. Not Just Kiku and Gilbert, not Just Francis, but even Antonio, none of them wanted "Mathew". They only wanted Alfred. Then why would Alfred want to get in touch with Mathew? Why would he think he was special? If Alfred met him, would Alfred be angry that Mathew stole his body and his life? Would he be mad that Mathew took his friends away from him, that Mathew stole his family from him? Again, just like last time, Mathew was taking Alfred's brother away from him. Not just Arthur, but Francis too. 

Mathew felt overwhelmingly guilty. He thought that he was nothing but a theif, no matter how unwillingly. Just like Francis who had taken Alfred and not Mathew, Mathew too, had abandoned his family. A memory he had been trying forget swam foggily to the surface. A face, so much like his own, blue eyes filled with desperation and a hand grabbing onto his own tightly. 

_"Mattie, you have to come with me too, okay! You promised, together forever!"_

Mathew remembered how he had looked to Arthur's lonely form. Sleeping on the couch, already forgotten and exhausted, a man who excluded the air of someone who had lost, even before the court date. Mathew remembered speaking those fateful words when they asked who he wanted to go with. 

_"I want to stay with Arthur._ " 

Mathew felt sick with himself. It had never been Francis, or Alfred, who abandoned him. It had been Mathew who abandoned them first. What right did he have to keep stealing from Alfred when hevd been the first to leave him alone? Mathew knew he couldn't stay there any longer. I had to quickly find Alfred's passport and go home, to Arthur. Arthur would fix it, everything would go back to normal, and Mathew would never drink again.


	14. Chapter 14

Mathew dreamed of the first time he'd went out drinking with Arthur, the night of his 19th birthday, an event he'd been somewhat anticipating, and somewhat nervous about. Arthur had said he'd supervise, and he'd followed that promise at first. But sadly, no one was supervising Arthur, and Arthur was the type who didn't want to drink alone. Now, logically, Mathew knew he should watch his drinks, but it was his birthday, and he wanted to let loose a little. 

It was this mindset that led to Mathew agreeing when Arthur insisted he drink, and suddenly Mathew came to the foggy realization that he was absolutely blitzed. He came to this realization when he looked up from his drink blearly to find himself drinking with a group of people he didn't recognize and Arthur nowhere to be seen, while an elderly gentleman with white hair berated him in a loud German accent for not being able to hold his liquor.

Mathew remembered mumbling an excuse and stumbling his way to a washroom, underneath a neon sign in a bar that's interior looked far different than it had before he'd started drinking. Mathew remembered emptying his stomach out over the toilet - and then nothing. He'd woken up at home the next morning with a hangover, but not one as bad as Arthur had. Arthur hadn't told Mathew any details of what had happened last night, but Mathew had a secret fear that he'd done something super embarrassing, judging by the strange look on Arthur's face when he'd asked. 

Despite that, Arthur never had told him what he'd done that previous night, and Mathew woke up with an itching feeling of curiosity and shame, still wondering what it was. Thinking of Arthur made Mathew remember the wrongness of where we was now, a place he didn't belong, and Mathew decided that he couldn't put off leaving any longer. He was going to get Alfred's passport that day, book a ticket, and disappear from Alfred's life and go back to his own. 

Getting the passport proved easier than Mathew anticipated. It was during dinner - Just him and Francis this time - that his guardian made the proposal. 

"Mathieu."

There was a French lift to his name as Francis spoke it, one Mathew hadn't heard since he was a child, that made his heart squeeze and intestines squirm with discomfort, and Francis stopped fiddling with his fork and put it down. Mathew, floundering to decide on a real action, provided none at all and kept eating. Francis did not back down like he usually did, and instead pushed forward in a firm tone. 

"I think you should come back to France and live wit' me, if only for a little bit." 

This time, Mathew did provide a reaction, only if it was simply to freeze. His mind raced through the possibilities. He knew that Alfred would never agree. He'd lived Alfred's life enough to understand how much Alfred craved independence, and how much he'd hate to leave America and go back to France with Francis. But Mathew wasn't Alfred, and he wanted nothing more than to leave America, though it wasn't France he wanted to go back too, and here Francis was offering him the one thing he needed to escape so easily. 

"Okay." 

Mathew answered quietly and simply, and Francis, already in the middle of providing excuses, sputtered to a halt and stared at Mathew while Mathew pretended not to notice. Francis, probably afraid that Mathew would change his mind, immediately booked their flights after dinner. Kiku had to be called to help locate Alfred's passport (Behind the TV stand in the living room,because Alfred had dropped it there after coming back from France last Christmas and never bothered to fish it back out) while Mathew packed, tossing random things into one of Alfred's duffle bags. 

Gilbert was suspicious, though, once he heard the news, and though he'd pulled Francis aside to whisper to him, the apartment was small, and it was easy for Mathew to pick up key words and figure out what Gilbert was saying. 

"... Be careful... Mathew isn't like Alfred... Planning something...."

But even if Gilbert was suspicious, there was no stopping what had already put into motion, and Mathew opened his phone and booked a second ticket, a short flight from France to England, where Arthur was. Alfred's luggage would still go to France, but Mathew didn't care, that would be Alfred's problem, once they switched back. He had plenty of his own clothes back in England, with Arthur, and besides, even though he was the one who first abandoned Alfred, he still felt upset that Alfred had chosen to only contact Arthur and not him, so Mathew didn't feel too guilty about the frustration he'd be causing his twin. 


End file.
